I dream of gin

My Fellow Inebriates,

Let’s get something going to finish the weekend. Monday mornings suck anyway, so you might as well arrive at work green tomorrow.

It’s freaking cold out, but I have a lot of fur, so I’m going for a Watermelon Martini, made with gin. I miss summer, and although watermelons could bankrupt a person right now, I just want that summer taste.

$38. Going, going....

Admittedly I’m a little morose today…my painting will go to the person who can pony up $38 or more tomorrow morning at 5:00, an hour I’ve never been cognizant of on either side of bedtime.

Do you guys feel down in the winter? Bears are supposed to hibernate in the winter, huddled up with other bears. Their hearts slow down, and they’re tucked away from the wicked world all winter. I’d like to hibernate like a wild bear. But instead I’m going to get wrecked and pass out.

BROKER’S GIN—PART 3!

My Fellow Inebriates,

I’m delighted to tell you that things are back on with Julia Gale of BROKER’S GIN.

What things, you ask?

Well, for one thing we’re discussing how to get this elysian potion back into British Columbia, my home province. (You may have noticed some distance between us following Julia’s suggestion that I shop cross-border for BROKER’S GIN, a terrifying prospect for reasons I can’t fully elucidate. Perhaps I even mentioned a shift in my affections. Drunken madness!) Julia reassured me today that she is in my corner.

But first, the problem. It’s hard for a bear to drive to the United States. Even if I could (a) get sober to drive and (b) drive, the border guards present some very daunting obstacles:

  1. They insist on a passport with a smile-free photo so their facial-cognition software can work its mojo. Did I mention excess facial hair interferes with that? For me it’s always Movember.
  2. They like to fingerprint travelers. I don’t actually have fingers; my paws are more like little nubs.
  3. No searchable cavity here, peeps! Just a suspicious beanbag texture. What’s in there? they would surely want to know.

So the border’s a no-go. I was distraught to think Julia had left me with an unviable option, and may have said some dismissive things elsewhere on this site. But I was very wrong to do so. Julia told me today that BROKER’S GIN owner/director team Andy Dawson and Martin Dawson will be flying to BC in the New Year to fix things.

This is tremendous news, although I can’t fathom why they’d leave an asset like Julia at home. I am still basking in her warmth and concern for my liquor inventory; she is the most exceptional business development manager I’ve ever corresponded with. This is what I told her:

Very nice to hear Andy and Martin are visiting BC. Why are you not joining them? It sounds like a bit of a sausage fest, just the three of us boys getting drunk together and laughing at each other’s hats.

BROKER’S GIN seems almost within reach. Do I dare to hope?

HEINEKEN Lager—but DON’T read this if you’re underage

Tweet from HEINEKEN today:

“Thanks for following! Our content is intended for people of Legal Drinking Age so please don’t share it with those who aren’t. Cheers!”

I’m really glad HEINEKEN reminded me about this. I would never want to divulge the existence of alcoholic beverages to people under legal drinking age. To the best of my knowledge, most teenagers are unsullied by any awareness of beer. This is good for North America, because knowledge is dangerous, and knowing about beer could be a gateway for knowing about wine, and vodka, and tequila. OMG.

Drink responsibly.

Teenagers already make a decent effort not to learn anything, so if HEINEKEN’s on track with this idea, shielding them from any information about alcohol should enable them to glide past its temptations—at least until Dad buys them their inaugural 19th-birthday drink at the bar, little knowing they’ll have a dozen more with their friends later and need their hair held back over the vomit-gulping toilet.

I wonder if HEINEKEN would apply the same logic to sex. Don’t tell teenagers about sex, and it won’t occur to them.

Now, to whom would this logic be logical? Oh yeah—half of North America. The half that overlaps with the young-earth and intelligent-design clubs.

Amsterdam's Red Light District (Wikipedia)

I shouldn’t really single out HEINEKEN; this is obviously a policy thing, a hedge against a litigious world where, heaven forefend, someone might sue them for sewing the seeds of drunkenness in the impressionable. It just hit a funny note for me because HEINEKEN comes from the Netherlands, whose Red Light District is internationally famous for liberalism about sex, drugs and drinking.

Getting to the point, what is HEINEKEN, and should we drink it?

When people think HEINEKEN, they think skunky. The skunkiest of popular beers, this lager nevertheless holds mainstream status. HEINEKEN pours yellow, fizzy and watery, the carbonation dissipating quickly. The fizz is essential to HEINEKEN’s drinkability, as whatever pleasant malty taste might be in there is playing second fiddle to the headlining aromas, so some fireworks are necessary to distract the mouth from the nose, or reconcile them, or something.

Knowing about alcohol leads to deviant behavior.

All that said, I really enjoy HEINEKEN. It reminds me of Amsterdam, where I’ve never been but where I expect I might find interspecies couplings like the one I sometimes enjoy with my girlfriend Dolly when she’s in the mood and her nose is plugged up.